


the first (of many, but still first)

by RenWen17



Series: The Awful Terrible Sneaky Harem of Bastards [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (not between cheolgyu), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Harem, Anal Fingering, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bottom Kim Mingyu, Concubine Kim Mingyu, Dragon Hybrid Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Emperor Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hybrids, M/M, Permanent Injury, Seungcheol kills a man who tries to assault mingyu, Weddings, Wolf Hybrid Kim Mingyu, excessive affection, excessive use of the word husband, inspired by a tumblr post, my harem? did you mean my chief strategic advisors?, please don't judge me for knowing about ancient Chinese lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenWen17/pseuds/RenWen17
Summary: The honest to god Emperor, Son of Heaven, was sitting on Mingyu’s shitty camp bed, looking for all the world like He was sitting on the Dragon Throne — where He belonged, not in Mingyu’s tent! Mingyu had barely advanced to the rank of Lieutenant a year ago, which was why he had his own tent, but it wasn’t a nice tent and should not have the Emperor in it.“Erm,” Mingyu said, very intelligently. Then he remembered himself, and flattened himself on the floor in a full kowtow with palms upturned, pushing his wolf-ears back against his head and tucking his tail between his legs in a show of total submission.“Please don’t do that,” the Emperor said fretfully from behind the curtain of diamond-encrusted chains that shielded His face from unworthy eyes. “It makes me nervous.”
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Kim Mingyu
Series: The Awful Terrible Sneaky Harem of Bastards [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982354
Comments: 9
Kudos: 126





	the first (of many, but still first)

The Emperor was in Mingyu’s tent.

The honest to god Emperor, Son of Heaven, was sitting on Mingyu’s shitty camp bed, looking for all the world like He was sitting on the Dragon Throne — where He _belonged,_ not in Mingyu’s tent! Mingyu had barely advanced to the rank of Lieutenant a year ago, which was why he had his own tent, but it wasn’t a _nice_ tent and _should not have the Emperor in it._

“Erm,” Mingyu said, very intelligently. Then he remembered himself, and flattened himself on the floor in a full kowtow with palms upturned, pushing his wolf-ears back against his head and tucking his tail between his legs in a show of total submission.

“Please don’t do that,” the Emperor said fretfully from behind the curtain of diamond-encrusted chains that shielded His face from unworthy eyes. “It makes me nervous.”

Which was a baffling statement from the Emperor, who had people bowing to Him every day and couldn’t enter a room without seeing the tops of everyone’s heads. Mingyu was in no position to contradict the Emperor, though, so he kept his mouth shut. He also kept his forehead pressed against the ground, because he didn’t want to have his head cut off.

The position was beginning to hurt his shoulder, and the Emperor wasn’t speaking. Mingyu shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip.

“You can get up,” the Emperor said at last, with an awkward air. “It’s weird trying to talk to the back of your neck.”

Mingyu pushed himself into a kneel with a wince, trying very hard not to show how much his shoulder was aching. He very determinedly did not look at any part of the Emperor except the toes of His white boots, because even if the Emperor was wearing the Imperial Crown and the attached veil, Mingyu was just a Lieutenant and shouldn’t even be in the same room as His Majesty.

Which brought him back to the fact that the Emperor was in his tent.

“Respect to the Emperor and apologies for my presumption,” Mingyu began, “but why has His Imperial Majesty graced this lowly one with His presence?”

“How is your shoulder?” the Emperor asked, which was very much not an answer to Mingyu’s question. “I heard you took a field injury this past month.”

“Ah — this one’s shoulder is recovering well,” Mingyu said. It wasn’t quite a lie — the field medics had said it was healing as well as could be expected, but told him that he would probably never wield a weapon without pain again. “This lowly lieutenant thanks His Majesty for His concern.”

The Emperor shifted — Mingyu saw His feet shift and heard the rustle of expensive silk brocade against the rough-woven linen of his cot. “I have heard much about you, Lieutenant Kim Mingyu,” he said. “Your commanding officers speak highly of your performance both on the field of battle and off it, and the men under you speak well of your kindness and tactical strength.”

Mingyu made a concentrated effort to keep his tail from thumping happily on the ground. “Many thanks to His Majesty for His praise,” he murmured.

“But something confuses me,” the Emperor said. “You have been enlisted in the Imperial Army since your sixteenth birthday, and you are now twenty-four.” Before Mingyu could be surprised that the Emperor knew his age, He continued. “So why are you still a lieutenant? Based on your performance, you should be a Lieutenant General at the least by now.”

Oh Gods. The Emperor couldn’t possibly miss Mingyu’s blush. “This — this one is flattered by His Majesty’s words,” he stammered out. “This one is — is —” He couldn’t say he wasn’t that good, that would be contradicting the Emperor and end with his head in a box. Telling the truth it was — he prayed that his commanding officers wouldn’t hear of this. “Speaking frankly, Your Majesty, this one is of humble birth,” he said in a rush of breath. “This one has been passed over for promotion multiple times, and only received the rank of Lieutenant last spring.”

The Emperor didn’t reply. Mingyu clutched at his injured shoulder nervously, wetting his lips. “And — now that this one has been injured, this one is unlikely to advance much further,” he said, aware that he was rambling. “This servant of Yours will never wield a sword without pain again, and will most likely have to quit the army’s service.”

“That,” the Emperor said solemnly, “is bullshit.”

Mingyu choked on air, spluttering wordlessly. “I — apologies to the Emperor,” he gasped. “But what…”

“Kim Mingyu of Anyang, I have a proposal for you,” the Emperor said. “Of late, the Ministers of my Court have let their status get to their heads, and no longer care for the people as they should. I would promote you to Minister of War if I could, but I offer you the next-best thing.” There was a smile in His voice — the Emperor was smiling at Mingyu.

“This one awaits the Emperor’s orders,” Mingyu responded, nearly automatically. Minister of War, _him?_ Of course it was impossible, but the fact that the Emperor _wanted_ him to be a Minister of War!

“I would like you to enter my harem as a cover for becoming my main strategic advisor.”

Dignified as always, Mingyu fainted.

When he came to, his head was lying in someone’s lap, his cheek resting against cool silk brocade.

“I have to say that this was not the reaction I expected,” the person whose lap he was lying in said. Mingyu blinked dazedly, trying to get his vision back into focus, and found that he was looking directly up at the Emperor’s veiled face. “If you don’t want to, that is all right,” the Emperor said, evidently not caring that He was sitting on the ground with a common lieutenant’s head in His lap. “I will find another way to ensure your talents will be put to use.”

Mingyu flailed his way off of the Emperor’s legs, pressing his forehead to the ground. “This one apologizes for his misconduct!” he gasped. “I — I would be honored to join Your harem.”

“Mingyu,” the Emperor said gently. “Put aside your sense of duty. Would you really-truly be willing to become my concubine? Even if part of the reason is that I want your counsel and new perspective, you will be expected to behave a certain way. You will be gossiped about at every turn, and the Ministers of the Court will not take kindly to a concubine giving his opinion on matters of state.” He shifted, and gentle hands raised Mingyu by his elbows until he looked directly into the Emperor’s face. “I want you to be completely sure.”

Mingyu could see shadows of the Emperor’s features behind the veil of the Imperial Crown — full lips, a stern jaw, and soft, soft eyes.

“Yes,” he said.

The Emperor laughed and pulled Mingyu into His arms for a tight hug. “You are the first of my harem,” he said. “So at least you will not have to worry about any inter-harem politics.”

Mingyu swallowed heavily, limp in the Emperor’s arms. Ah. The fact that the Emperor was expected to take many spouses hadn’t quite hit him.

The Emperor pulled back, looking Mingyu over. “Well, at least the Ministers will believe I fell head-over-heels for you,” he said. “Look at you! Your shoulders are so broad — you’ll easily look the part of pampered concubine.” He tapped His chin thoughtfully, making the chains of diamonds jingle. “Is all of you that muscular? I only ask because you might have to go around shirtless sometimes”

Mingyu’s mouth went dry. He knew he was muscular under all his armor — but would the Emperor approve?

Apparently possessed by stupidity, he fumbled for the hem of his military-issue tunic and lifted it to the bottom of his ribcage to show the Emperor his stomach.

The Emperor fell silent for a terrible few seconds, and when He spoke again, His voice was slightly strangled. “Ah,” He said, which did nothing for Mingyu’s embarrassment. “I see you are that muscular all over.” He cleared His throat. “You’re quite beautiful, you know.”

Mingyu’s face burned. His human-ears could most likely heat the whole camp at this rate, and his wolf-ears quivered with embarrassment. “Many thanks to the Emperor,” he choked out as politely as possible.

The Emperor waved one regal hand, heavily adorned with rings of gold, jade, and silver. “Please — we’re to be married,” He said, clearly recovered. “You’re free to speak semi-informally.”

He stood, dusting off His robes. “Well, we ought to inform your superior officers,” He said lightly. “I’ll pay off your commission, of course. Can’t have the first Noble Concubine entering the Palace with outstanding debts, and it sounds like you were intending to leave anyway.”

Mingyu nodded, almost frantically, and the Emperor swept out. Mingyu followed close behind, feeling distinctly like he was a pup again and not a grown wolf of twenty-four.

The Emperor had no personal guard with Him. Why would He? He was in the heart of His territory, surrounded by soldiers loyal to the Empire. Nothing could even touch the hem of His robes without being cut into pieces by a thousand blades.

Not that any of those blades could be Mingyu’s, he realized all over again with a sharp pang. His shoulder injury took that from him.

He almost laughed. _Guess being a spoiled whore really is all you’re good for, eh, Kim Mingyu?_ he thought bitterly.

The Emperor settled things remarkably quickly with the commanding officer. All it really took was His imperious voice saying that He would be taking Mingyu, and his commission would be paid in full, and the commander was bowing and scraping his agreement.

The Emperor let Mingyu pack up in privacy — He said that a carriage will arrive in a few hours to bring them to the Palace. Since Mingyu wasn’t going to be Empress (thank the Gods) or even a proper Consort, their wedding would be private and quiet.

“I would make you an official Consort if I could,” the Emperor said earnestly. “Unfortunately, I have to have an Empress before I can take any Consorts — and I’m not ready for an Empress.”

That much, Mingyu understood. He packed silently, hyper-aware of the Emperor’s presence — the Emperor had been snared by the commander, and was taking tea, but Mingyu knew He was there.

On second thought, he really ought to stop thinking of the Emperor in the most formal register, he thought idly, and caught up in thought, missed the soft rustle of someone entering his tent.

“Finally realized that you’re useless to the army, Kim?” an unfortunately familiar voice said snidely. Mingyu’s shoulders tensed, but he did his best to ignore the speaker.

Unfortunately, Lieutenant Commander Lee didn’t like being ignored. “Hey, Kim. Be glad the Emperor saw fit to pick you up for a fuck. Even He knows you’re good for nothing else.” He sniggered. “Wonder if He’ll still think you’re worth anything after you’ve been fucked a few times. Maybe He’ll even keep you around when your mating season comes — breed you like the bitch you are.”

“Please stop,” Mingyu gritted out. His fists were clenched so tight around the rim of his trunk that his knuckles were white. This wasn’t the first time the Lieutenant Commander had come onto him — before, though, he’d been stopped by Mingyu’s threats to report him for fraternization with a lower-ranked officer. Now that Mingyu was out of the army, though? “I’m packing. Get out of my tent.”

“What? In the end, all you are is a kept whore for His Majesty to fuck whenever he likes. Only thing a street dog like you is good for.”

Mingyu screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the Lieutenant Commander’s voice. The man’s heavy boots thumped on the ground, getting far too close for Mingyu’s comfort. “Think the Emperor will know if you aren’t virginal on your wedding night? Won’t be any blood, you’re not a woman.” A sharp tap landed on Mingyu’s backside, right above his tail. “Pay attention, bitch.”

Mingyu sucked in a breath through his teeth, trying not to flinch. His wolf-ears were pinned back as far as they would go, trembling weakly, and the Lieutenant Commander could almost certainly smell Mingyu’s terror thick in the air.

“His Majesty won’t be able to tell if I get a taste of you,” the Lieutenant Commander hissed in Mingyu’s ear. “You’ll know, though. You’ll know every time the Emperor sticks His cock in you, won’t you — that you let this happen, that you betrayed your Emperor and husband.”

Mingyu closed his eyes tighter as the Lieutenant Commander’s hand crept around his side. “Get off,” he said weakly. “I’ll report you.”

“Hurgkh,” the Lieutenant Commander said.

There was a tremendous thump, and the rustle of fabric.

“You will show proper respect to Our Concubine,” the Emperor thundered. Mingyu turned slowly and found that the Emperor was standing with one foot on Lieutenant Commander Lee’s throat. Behind him, the Commander had his sword half drawn, looking nervously between the Emperor and his lieutenant.

“We should have you executed,” the Emperor seethed. The antlers that crowned his head sparked with lightning, bolts of blue-white electricity leaping around the points. “You have disrespected Our Concubine, attempted to force yourself on one of Our people, and slandered Our Heavenly Person by your deeds.”

Mingyu was moving before he knew it, prostrating himself. “Divine Emperor,” he gasped. “Please — reconsider. Spare the Lieutenant Commander’s life, he has done much for Your Majesty’s army — This one is accustomed to such treatment, it is a natural consequence of the situation of this one’s birth —”

It was the wrong thing to say. The stink of burning ozone filled his tent suddenly, and lightning crackled. “Accustomed?” the Emperor said, his voice low and dangerous. “Mingyu, tell me — has this man tried to force you before?”

Mouth dry, Mingyu could only nod.

The Emperor drew his foot back briefly, and then there was the terrible crack of the Lieutenant Commander’s neck breaking under the Emperor’s boot. The man died instantly.

“Commander Park. Remove this,” the Emperor ordered, kicking the body aside. “A dishonorable burial.” Then, gently, far too gently for a man who had just broken someone’s neck, “Mingyu. Come, the carriage is here.”

Mingyu followed him in a daze.

The Emperor had killed a man for him. Logically, he should be terrified, but the only emotion he could muster was a strange sort of warmth. Lieutenant Commander Lee had been a terrible man. And, well. Who was Mingyu to gainsay the Emperor’s rulings?

There was an army of servants waiting for them at the gates of the Imperial Palace — evidently the Emperor had sent runners ahead, or told the Palace that he would be retrieving a concubine already. Whatever the reason, Mingyu was besieged by a legion of raccoon, rat, and cat hybrids, all clucking over him and his military uniform (which, if the leader of the pack was to be believed, was unforgivably dirty, even though Mingyu had just washed it the week before) and the fact that his tail hadn’t been properly oiled in what looked like years.

“There’s oil for your tail?” Mingyu said weakly, which set off another round of clucking. If he didn’t know better he’d think these people were all chicken hybrids.

“Be gentle with him, Kihyun,” the Emperor said laughingly. “When you’re finished, let him rest in the White Lotus pavilion — he’s had a long day.”

The leader humphed and pushed Mingyu forward. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he muttered. “What do you take this one for?”

They shoved Mingyu into a white marble bath pavilion and stole his clothes, leaving him standing naked in the middle of the room. He squeaked embarrassingly, covering himself with his hands — and promptly felt stupid about it. He was a lieutenant of the Imperial Army, not a blushing maiden.

Well. He wasn’t a lieutenant any more, but he had been until a few hours ago.

Then he was manhandled into a sunken tub full of hot water, and surfaced sputtering. “Hey!” he yelped, shaking water out of his ears. “Don’t — don’t be so rough, please!”

The leader of the pack scowled down at him. “Little Highness, the Emperor gave us two days to get you ready for a wedding,” he said sharply. “You’ll have to forgive us for being efficient.”

Two days! Mingyu sputtered weakly as one of the raccoons waded into the tub and dunked his head underwater, soaking him thoroughly. “How are you — ow! — how are you going to manage that?” he gasped.

The leader — Kihyun? — wrinkled his nose as he poured soap into his hands, shaking his head. “What the Emperor orders, the Emperor gets!” he snapped. “We’ve taken your clothes to the seamstresses for your measurements, and the jewelers are already working on your crown.” He clicked his tongue and buried his hands in Mingyu’s hair, working up a lather. “All we have to do is get you cleaned up, Little Highness. And looking at you, it seems we’ve got the worse job.”

They cleaned him _very_ thoroughly. One of them, wielding a scrub brush like a weapon, scrubbed him down until his skin was pink and shiny everywhere, even in… places he’d never had exposed in public before. At least they were slightly more gentle with that particular area.

Kihyun uncorked a bottle, and Mingyu sneezed at the strong smell of flowers that hit him. “What’s that?” he asked around another sneeze. It was _pungent._

“Oil for your tail, as you were so baffled about earlier,” Kihyun said flatly. “This will keep fleas and mites out of your fur, and keep it fluffy and soft. I’m surprised you aren’t covered in bugs, honestly.”

Mingyu decided not to tell him about the awful two weeks surrounding his eighteenth birthday when lice got into the whole camp and he practically had to bathe in turpentine to get rid of them.

Ear lice were terrible.

He wasn’t very happy about strangers fondling his tail, he had to admit. But the hands felt good after a while, and the fine-toothed comb they introduced when he was dry felt even better. Mingyu carefully held his tail very still, and did _not_ thump it against the floor like a pup.

Then the servants helped him dress, which he was very much not used to. Inner trousers and a shirt made of nearly transparent white silk first (he had only had rough-woven cotton before), then loose white _baji,_ then an under-robe in a rich blue. The ensemble was finished with a silvery outer robe emblazoned with the Emperor’s crest on the front, belted with a sky blue band of silk.

All in all, it was far less revealing than Mingyu had expected for a concubine of the Emperor, but much nicer than anything he’d ever worn.

“Stop looking so starstruck,” Kihyun scolded him, but his voice had gone softer. “These old scraps are nothing to what the seamstresses have been ordered to make for you.” He pinched the sleeve of Mingyu’s outer robe between two fingers, mouth pressed into a tight line. “Although it’s not every day the Emperor gives His cast-offs to a newcomer. Best thank Him when you can.”

Mingyu nodded, focusing on keeping his tail out from between his legs. The robes had a very convenient slit in them up to the base of his tail, so anyone who looked would see it if he started getting shy.

Hm. He would have to break that habit if he wanted the Emperor to make any use of him as an advisor.

———

Two days passed remarkably quickly. The Emperor wasn’t getting married to the person who would become his Empress, so there was less of a flurry, according to Kihyun. Not that Mingyu could tell — the Palace was busier than any military camp he had ever been in.

The legion of servants bathed him thoroughly both mornings, scrubbing fit to take the skin off him. On the morning of the second day — Mingyu’s _wedding day!_ — Kihyun arrived in the bath pavilion after Mingyu’s bath but before he’d been dressed, carrying a large wooden chest.

“Well, Little Highness, it’s time to prepare you for the ceremony,” he said, setting down the chest with a heavy thud. “Bend over with your back facing me.”

“What?” Mingyu managed to choke out. Kihyun was rummaging in the chest, turning up a polished bamboo tube, a nozzle, and several other items that looked vaguely terrifying.

Kihyun looked up and made an impatient gesture. “Bend over. Your husband is going to be _taking_ you tonight, and if I have to tell you that neither of you has the anatomy needed for a birth, then I would think you stupid. As is —” He broke off, screwing the nozzle onto the tube. “The _protocol_ is to thoroughly clean out the part your husband will be sticking His Imperial Penis into.”

Once again, Mingyu found himself choking on his own spit, both at the thought of having his — uh — _nether regions_ cleaned out, as Kihyun was clearly planning, and at the raccoon hybrid’s blunt words.

A slender rat hybrid with huge eyes sidled up to him. “Do you want me to hold your hand?” he asked in a near whisper. “It’s frightening, I know.” His mouth twisted in a funny nervous smile. “You’ll shit out what feels like everything you’ve ever eaten, but I promise it’s worth it.”

Mingyu determinedly did not think about what those words implied as he bent over the ledge Kihyun directed him to, but he also grabbed the rat hybrid’s hand. Someone else nudged his legs apart, and he heard the clang of a metal basin being placed between his ankles.

“Can — can we do this with as few people in the room as possible?” Mingyu blurted. “I don’t want people to — to —”

“To look at you while you shit your guts out?” Kihyun offered wryly. “As you wish. Everyone, get out of here, the Little Highness wants privacy.”

Mingyu heard them vanish, no one speaking. Thank the Gods — he wouldn’t be able to deal with people laughing at him. Then again, there’s no guarantee they won’t start laughing as soon as the door of the bath pavilion closed.

He shook his head and grasped the rat hybrid’s hand tighter.

“All right, Little Highness, don’t you dare push this out,” Kihyun said briskly, and something cold and slippery went right into Mingyu’s asshole.

Mingyu squealed out loud at the feeling, and the man holding his hand smothered a giggle. “Breathe slowly,” he said through the hand holding back his laughter. “It helps.”

Mingyu wrestled his breathing back under control, far too aware that his hands and knees were shaking.

“Taeyong, keep him breathing,” Kihyun ordered. “Else the Emperor’s future first husband will die of a heart attack before the ceremony.”

The rat hybrid visibly swallowed back another laugh. “All right, Your Highness, match my breathing,” he said, darting his eyes over Mingyu’s shoulder. “In, and out…”

His attempts were sadly wasted as hot water was flushed through the nozzle plugged into Mingyu’s ass, and Mingyu yelped like a wounded dog, his free hand scrabbling at the marble his torso was lying on.

“Stop wriggling!” Kihyun snapped, planting one hand on the small of Mingyu’s back. “You’ll make the tube fall out before it’s done, and then we’ll have to do this all over again.”

Panting, Mingyu squeezed the hand in his even tighter and screwed his eyes shut.

All in all, it was a highly unpleasant experience. Once the water had all been pumped into him, Kihyun made him hold it until he felt sick, and then it all came _out_ — as Taeyong had promised, it felt like Mingyu was shitting out everything he’d ever eaten in his life, and then some.

Mingyu nearly collapsed when Kihyun declared them done, only saved by the ledge he was still leaning over. He lay there, panting, as the staff filed back in and cleaned up the mess he’d made (thankfully mostly contained to the basin), and only got up when Kihyun made him.

A servant wrapped Mingyu in a simple robe, and he was led back into the main room of the White Lotus pavilion he’d been staying in.

Yards and yards of red fabric embroidered in gold thread were lying over the couches in the main room, trays of gold and jewels on almost every flat surface. Mingyu goggled at the riches so casually displayed.

“The seamstresses send their apologies if the robes are not perfect,” one of the servants said. “However, they assure us that they will do.”

Mingyu nodded awkwardly, still bowled over. He still wasn’t used to all this — all this bowing and scraping, and having servants to dress him. That was for _generals_ , not lieutenants. He hadn’t even had anyone to help him put his ceremonial armor on for his promotion.

Every piece of his wedding clothes was red or white. Red trousers and undershirt, made of silk so light it felt weightless against his skin. A red inner robe that swept the floor, embroidered with subtle red patterns.

A layer of white, a layer of red, until Mingyu wore enough silk to make a couple of tents out of. He had to hold his arms with elbows bent in front of him to keep his gold-embroidered sleeves from dragging on the ground, his hands tucked into his sleeves.

Kihyun had him sit on a low cushion, looking almost fond. The dressing alone had taken hours, and the sun was high in the sky. “You look well in red,” he said. “We’ll do your hair now.”

In accordance with military regulations, Mingyu’s hair had been trimmed to above his eyebrows, although that didn’t stop the servants from fiddling with it until Mingyu’s scalp ached. Gold pins and clips were fastened into the increasingly elaborate hairdo one by one, until at last, the hands left his head and a crown was placed on top of it all. How did they manage to braid hair less than four inches long?

Then it was time for jade and gold bracelets, and rings on every one of his fingers, and with barely a word of warning, piercing his ears to accommodate dangling strings of gold and gems.

It all seemed a bit overkill for a concubine. When Mingyu voiced this, though, Kihyun smacked his shoulder (his good shoulder, thankfully) and told him to stop being ridiculous.

“You are the Emperor’s First,” he told him plainly. “The First, you understand? Unless the Emperor decides to take an Empress, you are the Head of His harem. Even if the Emperor takes an Empress, you will always have some measure of authority because _you are the First.”_

Mingyu swallowed hard. That seemed like a lot of responsibility for a low-born lieutenant.

A servant came in, bowing deeply. “The sedan chair is here for the Noble Concubine,” they said softly. Kihyun nodded and helped Mingyu to his feet, guiding his arms into a different position, and draped a gold-embroidered cloth over his joined hands.

“Don’t let that drop,” he instructed. Taeyong helped Mingyu step into a pair of gold velvet slippers embroidered in red, and away they went.

It took three people to maneuver Mingyu into the cedarwood sedan chair without dropping the cloth that covered his hands or tangling his train. The robes trailed a full three feet behind him when he was standing, and piled up almost to his knees once he was sitting in the sedan chair.

Mingyu took a shaky breath. This was well and truly real now.

Kim Mingyu of Anyang, previously Lieutenant of the Tenth Regiment of His Imperial Majesty’s Army, was carried across the threshold of the Gates of Heavenly Peace in a cedarwood and gold sedan chair to become the First Noble Concubine of the Son of Heaven.

They bowed to the heavens and the earth, to their ancestors, and to each other, then linked arms and drank from tiny translucent porcelain cups of clear rice wine. Just like that, they were married — and Mingyu had still not seen the Emperor’s face.

Although, when they drank, Mingyu saw a full, plush mouth and strong chin, smooth skin unblemished by scars or acne, and the glimpse of straight, pearly teeth.

Then it was time for the wedding feast, and Mingyu barely had time to wonder how the Emperor was supposed to eat without people seeing his face before the two of them were ushered into a canopied enclosure of gold at the head of the hall.

The curtains parted just enough for gold-covered trays to be placed on the low table before them, and then fell back into place. The assembly would be able to see their silhouettes as they ate, and offer congratulations through the barrier of crimson silk.

The Emperor bent his head toward Mingyu. “My husband,” he said softly. “You now have the privilege of removing my veils.”

The glittering chains were made of diamonds and gold now, matching the embroidery of the Emperor’s robes, and a red veil hung beneath the chains. Breathless, Mingyu dropped the cloth that Kihyun had so carefully placed over his hands and reached for the clasp that held up the curtain of jewels, his hands shaking.

The first veil fell away easily, the clasp yielding even under Mingyu’s big clumsy fingers. The red gauze was a little more difficult — Mingyu’s fingers kept slipping on the silk, and he was afraid he would pull the Emperor’s hair.

When Mingyu finally managed to remove the veil, the Emperor blinked up at him with huge, soft eyes framed by long lashes. His eyes were a stunning shade of amber in the lamplight of their enclosure, even more beautiful than Mingyu had dreamed of.

The Emperor’s face was lovely.

“Mingyu,” the Emperor breathed, sounding just as awed as Mingyu was. _“Husband.”_

“Your Majesty,” Mingyu responded automatically. He didn’t know the Emperor’s personal name, nor yet how he should address him now that they were married.

The Emperor turned slightly, picking up a white jade flask and cup. The scent of plum wine filled their enclosure as he poured, and turned back to hand the cup to Mingyu. “Please, husband,” the Emperor said lowly. “To you, I am Seungcheol.”

Mingyu tested the name in his mouth as he accepted the cup, blinking at his husband. _Seungcheol._ It was a fine name — most likely with some lofty meaning, fit for the Son of Heaven.

The Emperor — his husband — _Seungcheol_ smiled at the sound of his name from Mingyu’s lips. “I have not heard my personal name since my brother was deployed to the East,” he said softly, and filled his own wine cup from the flask. “It… it does me good.”

The line of Seungcheol’s throat was elegant when he tipped his head to drink.

They clashed chopsticks several times over the course of the meal as they each tried to put the best of their dinners onto each other’s plates, until Seungcheol tossed his head back with a laugh when they bumped elbows again.

“We are far too good for each other,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “We’ll waste away like this, passing food back and forth and never eating.”

Even though Seungcheol and Mingyu were hidden behind the red curtains, hundreds of people came to congratulate them. They promised to send wedding gifts later; the short notice given wasn’t enough to procure appropriately rich offerings for the Emperor and his First Noble Concubine.

At the end of the feast, Seungcheol pinned his veils back on with practiced ease and helped Mingyu stand, brushing aside the back curtain. Apparently they were to leave with little fanfare.

That wasn’t so bad, Mingyu supposed. It would be better than everyone cheering as they left, presumably to consummate their marriage. He shuddered at that thought.

“We are going to my private residence,” Seungcheol explained as he led Mingyu away. The sun had set during the banquet, and thousands of lanterns lit. They made Seungcheol’s red and white and gold robes glow in their light, the silk almost luminous. “You’ll stay there for the next week as we settle you into palace life, and then you’ll take up your official residence in the White Lotus pavilion.”

Idly, Mingyu wondered if he glowed like that.

He dismissed the thought immediately, wrinkling his nose. _He_ wasn’t the Son of Heaven, and he definitely wasn’t truly meant to wear silk and jewels. That was for nobles and kings, not humble-born ex-lieutenants.

The Emperor’s private residence was very near the place Mingyu had been staying, which made sense. How else was the Emperor to easily access his harem? The roof shingles were made of priceless celadon pottery with perfect jade glaze, the door fittings of gold. More wealth than Mingyu had ever seen in one place, just for the most banal parts of the Emperor’s home.

The bed, of course, outshone everything. The deep green jade frame was carved with dragons and phoenixes and flowers, white gauze curtains draping across the opening, and mountains of pillows and silk blankets filled the frame.

Mingyu swallowed hard. This was what he signed up for, he reminded himself. And to be honest, it was the least scary thing about being married to the Emperor — especially after seeing Seungcheol’s face and the way his throat moved when he drank, and the strength of his hand as he helped Mingyu stand up — 

Mingyu cleared his throat, his face burning. All right, he was attracted to the Emperor! That was — that was _allowed,_ encouraged even! They were married!

Seungcheol didn’t even bother to unhook the veils from his headpiece as he took it off, sliding a long gold pin out of his hair and pulling the Imperial Crown free with one hand. It rested in his broad palm, the chains of gold and red silk flowing down his arm like water. Underneath the Crown and all the pins and jewels, his hair was shaggy and curly, dark brown and shining with hints of gold in the lamplight, and the dragon-horns that crowned his head glowed ivory.

“Mingyu,” Seungcheol said softly as he set the crown aside, his gaze focused on Mingyu. “You must tell me now if you don’t wish to engage in — ah — intercourse.” His face was flushed pink, and Mingyu wondered if it was from alcohol or shyness. “We’ll be expected to, of course, but many Emperors have taken chaste concubines.”

Mingyu wet his lips. “I — this one… would like to,” he choked out.

“Mingyu, Mingyu, my _husband,”_ Seungcheol murmured, and reached up to cup Mingyu’s face in his hands. His hands were warm and soft, without any calluses from swordplay or hard labor. “You needn’t be so formal. Tell me honestly.”

Mingyu nodded, his skin burning where Seungcheol touched him. “I wanna,” he whispered. “I wanna have — wanna fuck you.” It wasn’t eloquent, wasn’t anywhere near formal enough for a subject speaking to his Emperor, but the words made a smile break out across Seungcheol’s face.

“Do you?” Seungcheol asked, letting his hands trail down Mingyu’s throat to the collar of his robes. This time, his words were teasing — he knew the answer. “I’ve never had anyone before, you know. You’ll be my first.”

“Me too,” Mingyu breathed. “I mean — you too? Um. I’m a virgin too.” He couldn’t piece a sentence together properly, distracted by Seungcheol’s deft fingers undoing his sash and pulling gently at his jewellery.

Seungcheol smiled, half wry. “Then we’ll be each other’s firsts,” he murmured. He fumbled with the inner ties of Mingyu’s robes, carelessly letting the silk fall to the ground in crumpled heaps.

“The robes will crease,” Mingyu started, thinking of his days in the army, but Seungcheol shushed him with a finger on his lips.

“Let them. We won’t need them again.”

And his hands were burning hot, branding Mingyu’s skin as they slipped past the final barrier of sheer red silk, chasing all coherent thought from Mingyu’s brain and leaving him naked except for his inner trousers.

“Ah,” Mingyu gasped when Seungcheol’s broad thumb brushed past one of his nipples, sending a spark of — _something_ down Mingyu’s spine. “Can’t you — you’re still dressed,” he stammered. “S’ not fair.”

“Then do something about it, husband,” Seungcheol murmured, pressing his thumb into Mingyu’s nipple until his back arched — away from the sensation or into it, he couldn’t tell. “You’re the only one who’s allowed to.”

_For now,_ Mingyu thought miserably, but he obeyed anyway. Knots and pins were easy enough to undo normally, but he fumbled as Seungcheol continued trailing his hands up and down Mingyu’s bare torso.

“Husband,” Seungcheol sighed as the robes fell away, layer by layer. “Mingyu, my beautiful, strong husband. I’ve been wondering what you look like naked for three days, my husband.” He took one hand away from Mingyu’s chest to shake off the layers that had pooled at his elbows, smiling. “You don’t disappoint.”

Mingyu blushed, even knowing that it would spread down his chest and turn him pink all over, and focused on freeing a particularly stubborn knot. It came loose eventually, and exposed a swath of skin like white jade, stealing Mingyu’s breath.

“Ahh,” Seungcheol sighed, shaking the cloth free. His torso — toned, strong, with clear shadow delineating his abdominals and pectorals, highlighting dusky nipples, lamplight turning him gold, a statue made of mutton-fat jade — came into clear view, and he smiled up at Mingyu. “Let’s get into bed before we keep going,” he suggested. There was a flush high on his cheeks, and it made him all the more beautiful.

Seungcheol pushed Mingyu down into the soft mattress, gentle but firm. “Do you want me to take the lead, Mingyu?” he asked, those doe eyes searching Mingyu’s face. He seemed to relish the way Mingyu’s name tasted in his mouth, lingering over the vowels like fine wine. “Or would you rather?”

“Guh,” Mingyu said blankly, lost in the way Seungcheol’s torso and arms looked as he held himself over Mingyu. “I mean — you go. Go ahead.”

Seungcheol laughed, but not in the way Mingyu’s superior officers had laughed. Not in the way his old army acquaintances had laughed at 16-year-old cadet Mingyu lost in the _newness_ of military life — Seungcheol laughed like he was happy to hear Mingyu speak. “All right,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Relax, then. I’ll take care of you, husband.”

He reached over Mingyu’s head, retrieving a small celadon pot with a golden lid. “This will ease the actual intercourse,” he told Mingyu as he set it aside briefly, turning his attention to the ties of Mingyu’s pants. “It’ll make it so I don’t hurt you.”

Mingyu’s dick was half hard, had been since Seungcheol started to undress him, so he gasped when the cool air hit it. Almost deliriously, he wondered what it would feel like if Seungcheol put his mouth (his soft, plush, beautiful mouth) on his dick.

Seungcheol rumbled out a laugh, and Mingyu realized he’d said that out loud. “Want to try?” Seungcheol offered, his voice lilting and playful. He waited for Mingyu’s nervous nod before ducking his head, pressing a wet kiss to Mingyu’s shaft.

Mingyu’s dick _jumped_ embarrassingly, smacking Seungcheol’s chin. “Eager, aren’t we?” Seungcheol murmured against the rapidly hardening shaft, smiling. Mingyu could feel the curve of Seungcheol’s lips against his dick, could feel Seungcheol’s breath hot and wet against him, and swallowed back a moan.

Seungcheol’s tongue darted out, grazing Mingyu’s dick lightly, and Mingyu couldn’t hold back the hiccuping moan that burst out of his throat at that. It garnered him a smile from Seungcheol, and a brief reprieve as Seungcheol drew back, sitting on his heels with a proud expression.

Seungcheol’s pants were still on, a tent making itself obvious in the front; Seungcheol seemed to realize this at the same time Mingyu did, wrinkling his nose as he looked down at his crotch.

Mingyu held back a gasp as Seungcheol wrestled himself free of his pants — the dick that jumped free with a wet _slap_ against Seungcheol’s stomach was huge and fat and flushed red, bobbing freely now that it wasn’t held back by silk.

“Oh gods,” Mingyu wheezed, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. “Oh man.” His own dick hardened further at the sight, curving up into the air.

Seungcheol laughed as he tossed his pants over his shoulder and out of the bed. “Don’t worry,” he said, crawling over Mingyu again so he hovered over Mingyu’s face. “I’ll prepare you well — it won’t hurt.”

Mingyu swallowed hard, nodding. One of Seungcheol’s hands fell between them, toying gently with the slick head of Mingyu’s cock with the tips of his fingers. Mingyu groaned, muffled by his hand, and his dick pulsed, a drop of precome squeezing out at the stimulation.

“Don’t hold back,” Seungcheol ordered softly. “I want to hear you.” As if to emphasize his point, his fingers dipped lower and his thumb glided over the head of Mingyu’s dick, spreading the pre around. He brought his other hand up, trailing oh-so-lightly over the sensitive skin of Mingyu’s ribs and up to his nipple, pinching and toying with the bud.

“A-ah, ah,” Mingyu whimpered as the nipple Seungcheol had his hand on grew red and puffy, and his dick leaked even more over Seungcheol’s fingers. “S-slow down — s’ too much.”

The hand on his nipple let up, turning to a grounding weight on Mingyu’s chest, but Seungcheol didn’t stop teasing his dick. His hand was making wet _squelch_ sounds around Mingyu’s cock by now, hot and wet and maddening.

“Never done this before,” Seungcheol confessed. “You have to — have to tell me what you like and don’t like, husband. I’ll listen, I promise, always listen to you…”

At last, he pulled back again; Mingyu nearly wept at the loss of his warm hand. The little celadon-glazed pot clinked when Seungcheol opened it and set aside the lid, and Mingyu raised his head to watch as Seungcheol dipped two fingers in and turned up a dollop of something thick and viscous.

The dollop ended up evenly spread across Seungcheol’s first and middle fingers, and he maneuvered Mingyu’s knees up with his other hand, slippery from the gel. “I’m told this is the hard part,” Seungcheol said, forehead creased. “Just let me…” He scooped more of the stuff out and reached down in between Mingyu’s legs.

Mingyu almost squealed out loud as his husband’s slick fingers made contact with the stretch of skin between his balls and asshole, wiping more of that gel down to coat the rim of his hole. Seungcheol was liberal with it, smearing more and more around until Mingyu’s asscrack was covered in the stuff and his hole was starting to give under Seungcheol’s fingers.

“Don’t think that’s enough yet,” Mingyu said in an attempt at sarcasm, though that was really hard with Seungcheol massaging the skin behind his balls with that focused expression and his dick dripping all over his stomach. “Might need the entire pot.”

Seungcheol huffed and leaned forward to _bite_ Mingyu’s inner thigh in retaliation, making Mingyu squeak. “Sassy,” he chastised, nipping more gently at the place he’d bitten and laving his tongue over it to soothe the sting. His next pass pressed more firmly at Mingyu’s hole, pushing the tip of his finger against the entrance until it sank in.

A shudder rippled through Mingyu’s body from the top of his head to his toes; subconsciously, he clutched at the satiny sheets and tipped his head back.

_“Oh,”_ he breathed as Seungcheol’s finger sank further in, almost agonizing in its slowness. His chest heaved; there was a _finger inside him_ — the _Emperor’s_ finger, dear Gods — and it felt weird.

The finger withdrew, then went back in. Seungcheol was still frowning at his own hand like it had personally wronged him, his mouth pushed out in a little pout, but he continued that in and out slide like it was his life’s mission.

“Put another in,” Mingyu begged after a little while. “P-please, I think I’m ready…”

Seungcheol nodded and pulled his finger out entirely, reaching for more of that slippery stuff. Mingyu almost rolled his eyes, but didn’t complain — he didn’t know how much of this _fingers-in-his-ass_ thing he could take without the benefit of whatever that was.

The second finger went in easily, to his surprise, and Seungcheol started moving his fingers in earnest, spreading them apart and rubbing at Mingyu’s insides like he was trying to give him a massage.

Actually, that made sense, given that they were trying to get the muscles to loosen up, Mingyu thought, tipping his head back with a tiny moan he couldn’t muffle. How else was the Emperor supposed to put that monster of a —

Seungcheol’s fingers pressed into _something_ different, and Mingyu saw stars. “Ah!” he yelped, and Seungcheol pulled his hand back like he’d touched a hot brand.

“Are you all right?” Seungcheol fretted, caressing Mingyu’s face with the hand that hadn’t just been in Mingyu’s ass “Did I hurt you?”

“D-do that again,” Mingyu choked out, blinking the spots out of his vision. “Do it again.”

Seungcheol blinked, looking like Mingyu’d struck him. “I… what?” he asked feebly.

Mingyu smiled dazedly, not even attempting to calm his breathing. “Do that again,” he repeated.

Slowly, Seungcheol pushed his fingers back in, moving more carefully and watching Mingyu’s face like he’d gone crazy.

His fingers dragged over the edge of that _something_ , and Mingyu let out a long, broken moan. “Almost,” he gasped. “Almost there, just a little…” Seungcheol’s fingers hit it dead-on, and fireworks burst behind Mingyu’s eyes.

“Ohh-hhh-hh,” Mingyu wheezed. “ _Shit_ , there, _right there_...”

Clearly emboldened, Seungcheol resumed his earlier task of pushing his fingers in and out with new purpose. _Fingerfucking,_ Mingyu realized with a burst of something bright and pleased. _He’s_ fingerfucking _me._

He barely noticed when Seungcheol added a third finger, distracted by the suddenly pleasurable sensation of something inside him, making his dick weep uncontrollably onto his stomach and into the bush of hair around the base. It was filthy, and gross, and he — he _loved_ it.

It occurred to him that it would be even better with Seungcheol’s dick in him.

“Seungcheol,” he called weakly, and his new husband hummed in response, twisting his fingers inside Mingyu. “I’m — I’m ready for you.” He squirmed, pushing himself down on Seungcheol’s fingers. “I wan’ it — want you to…” His voice faltered, and Seungcheol smiled.

“You have to tell me,” he said, and gave a particularly vicious thrust with his fingers. “Tell me, husband, tell me what you want me to do.” He sped up, fucking into Mingyu even faster and harder.

Mingyu almost wept. _“Seungcheol,”_ he hiccuped. “Ah-hh-ah! Please, please, I want — _uh-nh_ , I want you to put your — _put your cock in me!_ Please, I’m ready, been ready for ages, please!”

_“Gods,”_ Seungcheol breathed almost reverently, his fingers stilling inside Mingyu. “All right, gods — all right.” He sounded nearly as wrecked as Mingyu felt, breathless and awed. More fumbling for the little pot, and a moment of filthy wet sounds as Seungcheol slathered it over the length of his cock.

Then the head of Seungcheol’s dick was pressing against Mingyu’s rim, hot and wet and rock-solid, pushing, _pushing —_

“Ahh-hh-ah-ah,” Mingyu sobbed out as the head breached him, so much thicker than Seungcheol’s fingers but so much better, his rim burning around the girth of it. His back arched weakly, pushing back against the stimulation.

Seungcheol was panting, open-mouthed, one hand twisted in the sheets next to Mingyu’s hip and the other holding his shaft steady, feeding it into Mingyu inch by agonizing inch. It took an eternity and yet only a second before he was fully inside, hips flush against Mingyu’s ass and bent over him, wheezing.

_“Fuck_ , _”_ Seungcheol wheezed. “M-Mingyu… I won’t last, you’re so hot a-and…” He shuddered, hips juddering against Mingyu’s ass and his dick punching a fraction deeper into Mingyu. “A-and so _tight,_ Mingyu, gods, you’re — you’re a picture come to life, Mingyu, Mingyu, my _husband…”_

Mingyu’s dick blurted more precome at Seungcheol’s strained voice, and he hiccuped out a moan, reaching to clutch at Seungcheol’s arms. The dick inside him was burning hot, pressing unforgivingly against that spot that had had him nearly sobbing earlier, and he wanted it to _move._

He said as much, eliciting a strained hiss from Seungcheol. The drag of Seungcheol’s cock against his insides as he drew back was terrible and exquisite all at once, pulling a moan from somewhere deep in Mingyu’s belly.

Then Seungcheol thrust back in, and Mingyu was gone.

He never thought of himself as a babbler — sure, he could ramble when he got nervous, but he’d trained himself out of that, mostly. But now, with Seungcheol — his _husband_ — slowly pushing his dick in and out, he babbled like a stream.

He didn’t even know what he was saying in between his moans, but whatever it was, it made Seungcheol groan low in his throat and begin fucking him in earnest, so he made no effort to silence himself.

Then Seungcheol leaned over him and pressed their mouths together in a messy kiss — too wet, with too much tongue and teeth and nothing like finesse, but _gods,_ it felt good, and Mingyu’s belly was alight with heat.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pant out a warning. “Gonna — gonna come,” he gasped. Seungcheol moaned long and low at that, letting his head drop to nuzzle against Mingyu’s neck.

“Me too,” he said against the skin of Mingyu’s throat. His thrusts were turning sloppy and erratic, going deeper than Mingyu thought possible. “Mingyu, _Mingyu —”_

Then hot, thick fluid was spurting deep inside Mingyu as Seungcheol went still, gasping into Mingyu’s neck. It went on for what felt like forever, pulsing ever deeper into him.

Mingyu keened, too loud but not caring any more, and spilled all over his belly and Seungcheol’s chest. Half delirious from the shocks coursing through his system, he wondered if his stomach was swelling from the amount of spend Seungcheol was unloading into him, and that prompted another weak spurt from his own dick.

Seungcheol collapsed on Mingyu’s chest, breathing hard. “So good,” he whispered, his breath coming in warm puffs against Mingyu’s skin. “So good, my husband.”

Shakily, Mingyu brought a hand up to rest in the dip of Seungcheol’s spine. They were both tacky with sweat, and the spend drying between their stomachs was getting disgusting, but he was loose-limbed and hazy with pleasure, and Seungcheol’s softening cock was still in him.

He would just rest his eyes for a bit… 

———

Mingyu blinked awake to sun in his eyes and stared at the carved jade above him for a good three minutes. A warm weight was pressed into his side, and heavy blankets had been drawn over him during the night.

“Mmmn,” the weight grumbled, and nuzzled closer to him. “Don’ wanna get up.”

Right. His husband. He was in their marriage bed.

He was a married man now. The First Concubine of the Emperor. The Emperor’s secret Definitely-Not-War-Minister strategic advisor. First of the Harem, and all that entailed.

It was less of a scary thought than it had been the night before his wedding. Idly, he stroked one hand down Seungcheol’s back, surprised and also not to find his husband naked. The thought of more concubines coming in still made his gut twist with something unpleasant (he refused to name that emotion. Ignoring it meant he didn’t have to face it), but, well. Seungcheol was probably nice enough to wait for at least a little while before marrying someone else.

The quiet bustle of servants disturbed their peace, and Seungcheol lifted his head with a grumpy pout on his face. “S’ m’rning?” he asked, voice blurry from sleep, and Mingyu found himself hopelessly endeared. His hair was sticking out in all directions, one side pointing straight up where he’d been lying on it.

“Yeah, it’s morning,” Mingyu replied, and reflexively reached out to smooth down the worst of Seungcheol’s bedhead. The Emperor pushed into his hand like a housecat, mumbling out a happy noise that brought a smile to Mingyu’s lips despite himself. “I think the staff just came in.”

They detangled themselves from the blankets — reluctantly, in Seungcheol’s case — and found Kihyun and an unfamiliar face waiting next to the door, cloth draped over their arms.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” Kihyun said dryly, flicking his gaze over them. “I see you enjoyed yourselves last night.”

Mingyu sneaked what he thought was a subtle glance at his stomach, hoping there wasn’t any dried come still there. Fortunately, his stomach was clean — unfortunately, Kihyun and the other guy definitely noticed.

Seungcheol clearly didn’t care about being seen naked after his wedding night. He grinned and placed his hands on his hips, posture easy and open. “Hyunwoo, what are you doing letting Kihyun run his mouth like that, eh? Isn’t he one of your subordinates?” he teased.

The other man — a bear hybrid, by the looks of it, with rounded fuzzy black ears sticking out of his close-cropped hair, bowed without letting the cloth in his arms touch the floor. “Respect to the Emperor,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “This one has very little control over what our Kihyun says or does. Your Augustness ought to know that he is… strong-willed.”

Seungcheol laughed. “That is the truth if I ever heard it,” he said ruefully. “Well, come here. I know you’re eager to cover us up.”

The two stepped forward obediently; the cloth turned out to be simple robes of red silk, belted at the waist with gold. Mingyu’s shoulder twinged painfully as he raised his arms to allow Kihyun to pull the robe on, and he bit his lip hard to avoid making a sound.

“Would Your Majesty and Your Highness prefer to bathe separately, or together?” Seungcheol’s attendant asked softly, drawing a light gold veil from his sleeve to cast over Seungcheol’s head.

“Together, if Mingyu doesn’t mind,” Seungcheol said, and plucked at the veil to glance at Mingyu unimpeded. “Would you like that?”

Mingyu wet his lips, praying that he wasn’t blushing. “Yes, I— I think so,” he mumbled, and Seungcheol nodded as he dropped the veil again, turning back to his attendant.

“Together, then, Hyunwoo. Kihyun, you are an angel, but I think you rather intimidate my husband, so we will bathe with as few attendants as possible.”

Kihyun nearly cackled. “Of course, Your Majesty. This one understands.” He patted Mingyu’s shoulder, frowning. “This one will consult with Your physician on the matter of Your husband’s shoulder; it is inflamed this morning. You ought to put a hot compress on it in your bath, Mingyu.”

With that, Kihyun and Hyunwoo stepped back, allowing Mingyu and Seungcheol to exit the house.

There was a whole troop of people standing outside of the Emperor’s House, their gazes trained on the door. Mingyu shrank back, his wolf-ears flattening against his skull, but Seungcheol raised a hand, turning his head to Mingyu — likely with a reassuring smile, but Mingyu couldn’t see under the pale gauze veil.

“They only wish to see us emerge,” Seungcheol said softly. “It is tradition for the wedding night of the Emperor.” He raised his hand higher, allowing the hem of his sleeve to fall gracefully back from his wrist. “The night has passed Us by!” he proclaimed. “We awakened to calm and warmth, Our husband at Our side. Let this day be as good as its awakening, and may it pass in peace.”

As one, their audience fell into the deepest bows they could, lifting their hands up in respect. “May Your Divine Majesty live ten thousand years!” they chorused, knocking their heads against the ground three times. “May Your Highness bring His Majesty divine joy!”

A few attendants peeled themselves out of the shadows, gesturing politely for Seungcheol and Mingyu to enter another section of the Emperor’s private House.

It turned out to be a bath chamber even grander than Mingyu’s, the sunken tub already filled with steaming water with flower petals floating on top. Four attendants werre bustling about the tub, setting out cut-glass and celadon bottles around the rim and laying soft cloths on little trays.

“Divine Emperor,” one of them said, bowing deeply. “This servant of Yours

has been informed of Your wish to bathe alone with Your Concubine. The cleansing oils this one has set out are Your preferred scents, as well as the ones Your Concubine’s attendants have informed us he seems to prefer.” He hesitated, holding the bow, as Mingyu blinked in confusion. He hadn’t noticed he had shown a preference for the different soaps and things. “Also, Divine Majesty, a book has been placed aside for Your use in the care of a wolf’s tail. These servants assumed Your Majesty would prefer to groom Your husband Yourself.” The bow deepened. “Apologies to the Emperor for this one’s presumption!”

Seungcheol nodded approvingly. “You have done well for Us,” he assured the servant. “You have Our permission to leave.”

The attendants backed out, eyes on the floor, and Seungcheol pulled his light veil off as soon as the door closed. “Ah,” he sighed. “No matter how many times I must participate in the morning procession, it hasn’t gotten any more comfortable.” He shrugged, and pulled the sash of his robe undone easily.

Mingyu fumbled at his belt, eager to get into the warm water. “Do You —” He paused, remembering Seungcheol’s request to speak less formally. “Do you have to do it often?” he asked, forcing himself into a more casual register.

Seungcheol tilted his head as he shucked his robe. “Hm… Sixteen times a year, usually. Twelve times for the first day of every month, once for the Autumn Festival, once for my birthday, once for my coronation anniversary, and once for the New Year.” He smiled and splashed into the tub, reaching for Mingyu’s hand. “You won’t be required to participate again if you don’t want to.”

Mingyu accepted the hand with only a little hesitation, sliding into the hot water. Seungcheol turned aside to soak a cloth in a little bucket of steaming water, and draped it over Mingyu’s hurt shoulder with a small frown.

“You ought to have told me your shoulder was hurting,” Seungcheol chided him softly. “I could have called for the physician before we laid together.”

Mingyu winced at the heat of the cloth. “It wasn’t that bad last night,” he said truthfully. “I think — I think I may have just slept on it wrong.”

Seungcheol hummed softly and turned away for a moment, returning with a cut-crystal bottle in his hands. “Let me wash your back, husband?” he murmured.

Mingyu couldn’t say no to his husband’s soft eyes, he found, even if turning his back on the Emperor was a serious breach of etiquette that could have had him executed a week ago. Not now, though — now he was the Emperor’s First Noble Concubine, his _husband._

He took a deep breath, letting the thought settle as Seungcheol’s hands, firm and strong, smoothed across his back.

Perhaps all this wouldn’t be so bad with such a husband.

Kihyun and Hyunwoo came to fetch them from the bath when they were finished, and led them into the adjacent dressing room where five other attendants were waiting, laden with piles of silk and chests of jewellery.

Mingyu’s clothes were clearly new — and also clearly fit for a concubine. The neckline of the long tunic Kihyun wrapped him in plunged artfully to his navel, and Kihyun looped fine gold chains over the stretch of exposed skin. They would draw attention to the hard lines of Mingyu’s stomach, he commented as he secured yet another at the back of Mingyu’s neck.

The sleeves were open too, slit up to his shoulders so they draped to expose his arms, which Kihyun also draped in the same thin gold chains. At least his legs were fully covered, with embroidered silk trousers and gold bangles at his ankles. And as a concubine, he wouldn’t have cause to wear anything except fine silk slippers, just enough to protect his feet from particularly aggressive gravel, or a thorn if he should happen to tread on one, so that was what he got.

“You ought to grow your hair out a bit,” Kihyun said, eyeing him critically. “Military-regulation doesn’t suit you.”

When Mingyu turned his head, he found Seungcheol staring at him fondly as Hyunwoo and his other three attendants went about dressing him. White jade and pearl earrings brushed the collar of his silvery-white robes, swaying gently with each movement of Seungcheol’s head, emphasizing the line of Seungcheol’s throat as he cocked his head. The Imperial Crown already sat atop his head, minus the veils for now, but with strands of white jade and pearl beads that matched his earrings draping artfully around his head.

Face burning, Mingyu looked away.

There was breakfast waiting on a low table in the next room, simpler than Mingyu had expected. Two bowls of rice congee with scallion bits scattered on top, rolled eggs, kimchi and pickled radish, and a pot of tea sat on a delicately carved wooden tray, still steaming.

Seungcheol sat and patted the cushion next to him, folding his full sleeve back elegantly to reach over the tray for a pair of chopsticks. “What do I have scheduled today, Hyunwoo?” he asked.

Hyunwoo poured two cups of tea, pushing one over to Mingyu and the other to Seungcheol; he didn’t take any for himself, but Seungcheol didn’t seem to think that out of the ordinary.

Mingyu gingerly sat on the indicated cushion and sipped at the tea; it tasted sweet and vaguely floral. Nothing like he’d had at the military camps he’d spent eight years in.

Hyunwoo removed a scroll from the sleeve of his robes, and Kihyun bowed out with the other attendants as the other began reading aloud.

It all sounded very dull, Mingyu thought as he picked at his portion of breakfast. The food was excellent, of course, only the best for the Emperor — but he couldn’t make himself eat more than half the congee in his bowl. Seungcheol nodded along to each item Hyunwoo read out, occasionally interjecting with a question or comment.

“And, of course, I’ll be bringing Mingyu with me,” Seungcheol said, and Mingyu choked on a piece of kimchi.

Hyunwoo looked unfazed as he reached out and patted Mingyu’s back to help him stop coughing, nodding. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said calmly. “I will alert the house staff that you will be accompanied today.”

Seungcheol nodded and spooned more congee into his mouth. “See that you do.” Hyunwoo bowed deeply and retreated.

Seungcheol cleared his throat, half turning to Mingyu. “Husband,” he said, and sounded far too nervous for Mingyu’s liking. Was this the part where he learned that the Emperor was hiding — hiding _fuckbuddies_ in every cranny of the palace?

No. No, Seungcheol had said he was a virgin. Barely knew what to do with that slippery stuff last night. Although that didn’t mean he hadn’t been with women, Mingyu supposed.

“My mating season is in the fourth month,” Seungcheol said instead, and Mingyu blinked his way out of his stupor. “And — and I know that is a long way off, nearly a year, but I wanted to warn you. So we have time to prepare.” He fiddled with his spoon, not looking at Mingyu. “It’s — difficult, for royals,” he said. “For us dragons.”

Mingyu forced a half smile onto his face. “Well, as long as you’re not — I don’t know, clawing things to pieces or — or sprouting another penis or something, I think we’ll be fine.”

Seungcheol was silent.

“You, uh… you don’t actually do that, do you?”

Seungcheol lifted his head, looking ashamed for some reason. “Technically, I always have two penises,” he said. “It’s just — when I’m not in mating season, the second one isn’t needed, so it’s… inside.”

Mingyu blinked stupidly. “Inside.”

Seungcheol ruffled his hair, his face flushing. “It — I’ve got a slit, below the — the other one. The second one comes out during my mating season, but the rest of the time —” He made a vague gesture that could honestly have meant anything. “It’s sort of, um. Inverted?”

Mingyu took a long sip of his tea, just for something to do with his mouth other than gape. “Does it — what do you mean, it isn’t _needed_ outside of your mating season?” he asked.

Seungcheol grimaced. “Well, in mating season, I, um. I make eggs.” He made another vague gesture. “They — with another dragon, they’d go to the brood pouch to incubate for a week or so, but otherwise they just. Come out.”

“Out of your second penis,” Mingyu clarified stupidly.

“Yes.”

Mingyu took a moment to process that. To be fair, he could pop a knot any time and stick himself and his partner together for anywhere from twenty to ninety minutes, but a second penis was a bit much, wasn’t it?

Then again. It wasn’t the weirdest thing he had heard of for mating seasons.

“I can manage alone,” Seungcheol was saying nervously when Mingyu shook himself out of his daze. He was moving a round of rolled egg around on his plate, not meeting Mingyu’s eyes. “I just wanted to give you the option. And. The warning.”

“We’ll see what happens when it happens,” Mingyu said. He gulped down the rest of his tea in one go and set the cup down very carefully; it was so fine and translucent he was afraid he might break it. “I don’t — I don’t think it’s wise to make a decision right now.”

Seungcheol nodded and picked up the tea pot to refill Mingyu’s cup. “Of course. I just wanted to… to give you advance warning. It’s the sort of thing that would… that would slip my mind easily.”

They took the rest of their meal in silence. A physician entered the room after their dishes were taken away, and spent several long moments holding Seungcheol’s wrist with his eyes closed, taking his pulse.

“Your _qi_ is well balanced,” the physician said at length. “Your Majesty is in perfect health.” He turned slightly away, picking up a slender case. “Please allow this servant of Yours to begin acupuncture.”

Mingyu startled, flicking his gaze to Seungcheol nervously. If he was healthy, why would the physician want to do acupuncture?

“I receive acupuncture once a week to relieve stress,” Seungcheol explained softly as he undid the ties of his robe, folding one side back to reveal his shoulder and chest. The physician was bustling with incense and a piece of clean white cloth, laying out twenty delicate needles. “My brother insists upon it.”

Mingyu nodded, watching with round eyes as the physician stood, lifting the first needle.

He’d had acupuncture done for his shoulder injury, of course, but this was almost meditative to watch. The physician was precise and gentle, and Seungcheol sat so still he might have been a statue but for the rise and fall of his chest.

Even with someone sticking needles into him, the Emperor was silent and graceful.

“My Noble Concubine also requires your attention, Physician Cha,” Seungcheol said as the physician drew back from placing the twelfth needle. “His left shoulder was injured this past month, and only received attention from military surgeons.”

The physician turned his gaze to Mingyu, considering him carefully. “Then this servant will do his best, Your Majesty.” He stood, moving to sit on Mingyu’s left, and took his wrist in a careful hand. “Clear your mind, please, Noble Concubine. Focus only on the sensations of your body.”

Mingyu swallowed hard and did his best to follow the physician’s orders. His hand was cold on Mingyu’s pulse point, and holding his arm still made Mingyu’s shoulder ache. He winced, doing his best not to fidget, but the ache was becoming overwhelming.

Thankfully, the physician let go of Mingyu’s arm before too long, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “You have already received a diagnosis, I take it,” he said in clipped tones. “Likely the military surgeons told you that your shoulder would be plagued with pain for much of your life, and only worsen with age and exertion.”

Mingyu nodded; that had been, word for word, what the dismissive military doctor had told him. He resisted the urge to clutch his shoulder; painful twinges still shot through it, making his hand curl into a fist in his lap.

The physician’s lip curled. “This diagnosis is wrong at best, and malevolent at worst,” he said shortly. “There are many things I can do to decrease your discomfort, even if it never fully heals.” He picked up the case again, shaking several more needles into his hand and laying them out with perfect precision. “Beginning, of course, with acupuncture. Please fold your sleeve back so I may have access to your shoulder.”

Mingyu did so, looking away with gritted teeth as the physician approached with the first needle.

Much to his surprise, there was nothing more than a slight pressure, rather than the sharp pain Mingyu had felt when the field medics had treated him. No wonder Seungcheol had managed to sit so still.

Before long, the physician had retreated, and turned to the small chest he had brought in. “I will continue treatment over the next few weeks, if Your Highness agrees to it,” he said. “I ask that Your Highness drink three cups of this tea each day to relieve pain and aid in the healing process; one at breakfast, one at dinner, and one before bed.” He placed a sachet of tea on the table, pushing it toward Mingyu. “I will deliver your tea with dinner and with breakfast; I will leave the night-time cup to you.”

He turned back to Seungcheol, bowing. “Your Majesty, if it pleases you, this servant will remove the needles now.”

When the physician finished taking the needles out of both of them, he left with a deep bow, and Seungcheol stretched his arms out. “Well, I suppose it’s time to begin the day,” he said, half ruefully. “I’ll have to leave you for a bit while I attend my ancestral shrine — you’ll be able to come with me up to the doors, but then Kihyun will likely steal you away.”

Mingyu nodded, and Seungcheol smiled as he stood up. “Thank you,” Seungcheol said, and bent down to drop a soft kiss on the top of Mingyu’s head. He had picked up the veils of his Crown and pinned them into place before Mingyu could react, transforming from Mingyu’s soft-eyed husband into the Heavenly Emperor in an instant.

Mingyu took a steadying breath and stood up to follow his Emperor.


End file.
